


skipping beats, flushing cheeks

by corleones



Category: Fresh Meat (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:02:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corleones/pseuds/corleones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oregon misses kissing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	skipping beats, flushing cheeks

The first couple of times (five) that they make out is tequila-driven and therefore, does not count at all. Oregon remembers these only hazily, the taste of weed and Desperados on Vod's tongue and how her mouth leaning into the slope of her's had been surprisingly gentle, though the hands on the tops of her thighs were insistent. 

She's got the worst luck when it comes to these things because the last time (Christmas party, there was mulled wine and mistletoe and vodka punch and _spin-the-fucking-bottle_ ) is almost forgotten by everyone but JP who heard them sneak into the downstairs closet with Oregon babbling "I like your hair _so_ much!" as she ran frantic fingers over her friend's scalp.

Vod had worn a hat at all times for the whole of the next week week, wagging her eyebrows suggestively whenever Oregon walked into the room.

"You know there's something to be said for abstinence," Oregon says, as they huddle over their laptops on the kitchen table, two hours away from their deadline. She hasn't had sex in about five months at this point. "I've not worried about being pregnant for ages. Or had to get tested."

"Solid," Vod observes, nodding, eyes still attached to her screen. YouTube videos of cats falling off things was her new dissertation vice.

"I miss being kissed though - not sex, exactly or even the cuddling very much. Actually, the cuddling not at all. Tony would just climb all over me but - kissing. I miss kissing."

"You get snogged loads, though."

"Sober kissing, Vod. _Sober_."

She looks up. "Nope, not a fan. Too slobbery. You can't shove them off if their tongue's all up in your business because that kind of thing is only socially acceptable if you're smashed."

Oregon made a noncommittal hum and got up to make some coffee.

"I could kiss you if you really fancied it, you know."

"What?"

Her fingers go still around the percolator. 

"If you fancy it."

"Well, don't _force_ yourself," she stammered. 

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Oregon." Vod sounded a lot closer than the table and when she turned around, she was confronted by all five-foot-ten of girl, pressing her back against the marble counter and swooping down to kiss her. It escalates quickly, percolator shoved mercifully away from the edge and hips doing all sorts of interesting things against the cupboards while they kiss. This time Vod's mouth tastes cold, like ice-water and toothpaste, her tongue making soft swipes against Oregon's lower lip. She bites down and there's a moan, that is (of course) embarrassingly loud and all Oregon.

"Never," Vod instructs, her voice low and kind of breath-heavy, "Tell JP about this."

There is the tinny click of an iPhone camera going off behind them. 

_Fuck._


End file.
